American Civil War
by xxXSporkSistaXxx
Summary: My version of the American Civil War. Rated T for future violence, blood, gore, sad stuffs.
1. Chapter 1

America's new president sure was tall.

That top hat wasn't helping too much, either.

When the two first met, America was a little taken back. This wasn't the man who he'd heard rumors about? Where was this monster who wanted to bring America to ruins? Where was this beast that burned crops, broke apart families, and who would eventually lead the American civilization to devastation?

I couldn't be the man who America was now shaking hands with. These hands that were so warm and strong, calloused from obvious hard days of physical labor.

When America, who was tall for his age, had to look up to see his new boss' face, and looked into those deep brown eyes; eyes that looked so old and sad. Eyes that belonged to a terrible man who was against anything American?

No. America couldn't believe those stories that the old rich Southern farmers told him.

This man wanted to end something that was slowly killing America.

America could feel it on the inside, the slow, dull pain that was eating away at his core.

The young country had felt it ever since he had gained his independence from England- ever since he began bringing those slaves from Africa over.

He knew, even though he really wished he didn't, that those farmers beat their slaves. Sometimes even, when he couldn't sleep at night, he would hear the slaves' singing.

They would sing about their own freedom, how they would be with their families again, and how they would finally be in peace when they go to heaven, even if they didn't get their freedom.

Those songs would make America cry. They brought back painful memories.

He did feel bad, really and truly, but he also knew that without them, his economy would crumble, and his people would starve.

But now, he felt that with his new president, maybe-just maybe, they could stop this inhumane cruelty.


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry this chapter is so puny, but I'll be writing and putting up the next one in a few minutes. Yeah- if you don't like it yet, read the next one, cause that one has a bit more action and stuffs. STAY WITH ME!! :P (but I do hope you end up liking this)**

America liked his new president. They both had the same ideas for the country, and both definitely wanted to see an end to the slavery that was rotting America from the core.

America went home after their meeting feeling peaceful. It was nice to finally have someone to talk to, who wasn't a total pyscho or a lazy bum.

America laid in bed that night with a feeling of anticipation. Tomorrow would be another long day though, countless meetings and negotiations to do with the escalating disapproval from the South.

The boy stared up at the ceiling, and slowly nodded off to sleep; blissfully unaware of what was to greet him that morning.


	3. Chapter 3

Sky-blue eyes closed tightly, and America's worn-face was screwed up in pain.

The poor country had woken to the worst headache of his life.

It was one of those kinds that made it hurt to move a muscle, or to even think. The kind that made you want to wish you never had a head in the first place- it hurt that bad.

"Ughhhh…"

He groaned pitifully as he slowly raised a shaking hand to his sweaty and throbbing forehead. He rubbed tenderly at his temples, but then stopped.

Something wasn't right.

America slowly sat up, and ignoring the awful throbbing that made him dizzy, grabbed his glasses, swung his navy-blue pajama clad legs over the side of the bed, and listened as intently as he could.

SMASH. CRACK. BOOM.

He jumped a little, hearing loud, obnoxious yelling coming from down the hall.

Who the heck would be in his house, at this early in the morning?

America jumped out of bed a little too fast, managing to almost trip over his own feet. Steadying himself with one hand on the wall for support, he slowly lurched down the hall, his bare feet padding softly on the wood floors.

"THERE YA ARE YA DAMN YANKEE!"

America barely had time to react when a fist flew out of nowhere.

"Wha-?"

Fist contacted with jaw.

America fell, sprawling to the floor; his head felt like it had been shattered.

Moaning, he rolled over, trying to put a face to this attacker.

He nearly fainted when his eyes focused on the…nation?!?

Sky-blue eyes framed by glasses, wild and bright, stared back into his, and short blonde hair stuck up all over the boy's head.

It was like staring into a mirror.

"Serves ya right, ya yank."

And with that, America's eyes widened even more, and the boy in grey laughed.

"Ya know who I am?"

He kicked the other country hard in the ribs, before leaning down until he was inches from his twin's face.

"I'm the Confederacy."


End file.
